


A Working Theory on the History of Italy

by Lunarflare14



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Chance Meetings, First Meetings, M/M, Modern Royalty, On the Run, Protective Parents, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarflare14/pseuds/Lunarflare14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you going to talk the whole time?” But Desmond caught the slight twitch of laptop guy’s mouth—almost a smile. He could work with that.</p><p>“Sorry, I don’t get out much; overbearing parents, lonely if privileged childhood. I’m not well adjusted.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Working Theory on the History of Italy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JessicaMDawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaMDawn/gifts).



> Prompt: Shaun/Desmond - runaway royalty and confused commoner AU from jessicamdawn on tumblr.

Desmond’s breathing was heavy as he listened to the guards run past the alcove he was hidden in. Finally, finally, he thought, catching his breath. He had been trying to shake the security team all afternoon. He’d been trying to do it for years but today looked to be the day he succeeded.

He sighed, straightening against the wall of the hidey-hole he had found. It was apparently the entrance to a café that was bustling with people. A group of teenagers left and he caught the door, slipping inside behind them. The line was moving pretty quickly and he figured he had some time before anyone back tracked to find him. He stepped behind the last person in line to wait his turn, constantly checking over his shoulder. He half expected to see one of the security officers glaring in through the glass. Finally it was his turn. The barista behind the counter took down his coffee order with a smile. He paid with cash—thank the Lord he remembered to get cash before running— and found a spot out of direct line of sight of the door to wait.

After waiting a few minutes the barista, a blonde with a high ponytail, called out, “Medium vanilla latte!”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, looking around for a seat. The only open ones were by the window, and sitting there risked being discovered. The rest were full of groups of people leisurely chatting or students with sprawling notebooks and materials across their table. Then he spotted a lone guy in the corner on his laptop with the chair across from him just out of sight of the door. Perfect.

He did his best to act casual as he strolled over to the table. “Do you mind if I share for a bit?”

The guy didn’t even look up. “There are seats over there. Ones FAR away from me.” His British accent was thick and so was the tone of disapproval. It was nice, familiar even. He’d always had a soft spot for the way they talked.

Desmond frowned. Was this guy for real? “Help a guy out. I just ditched out on my parents and their rant about how living in the city is dangerous. I don’t want them to spot me in here.” No response. Desmond looked back at the empty tables by the door. He could probably just leave but it was more likely he’d be found on the street. The clock was ticking. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”

The guy finally looked up, big brown eyes catching the light as they studied him, flaring a bright gold. Desmond’s breath hitched. This could be a terrible idea. “Alright then. But don’t expect me to be chummy. I’m working.” He looked back at the screen. “Tell Lucy you want my usual. Then you may sit.”

One of the security guards walked by the shop door and Desmond ducked behind the end of the bar until he was out of sight. “Deal.” Lucy was apparently the blonde barista, and she must have been descended from angels because she just handed him a cup and winked. “Thanks,” he said with what he hoped was a grateful smile. Why was it he never had anything clever to say in these moments? He slid into the seat across from the lone-laptop guy and handed him the cup.

“You’ve got an hour.”

Desmond did not pout. “Oh come on—“

“You’re lucky I’m sharing my table with you at all.”

That made Desmond laugh. “What would you have done if I had just sat here without your permission?”

The guy paused in his typing and shrugged. “Probably would have kicked you under the table until you left.”

Desmond moved his legs as far back as he could and shrugged. “I’ve got tough shins.”

“Are you going to talk the whole time?” But Desmond caught the slight twitch of laptop guy’s mouth—almost a smile. He could work with that.

“Sorry, I don’t get out much; overbearing parents, lonely if privileged childhood. I’m not well adjusted.” He leaned on his elbows, giving the guy a better look.

Observation was a skill his father taught him young—back when their family had been in danger all the time. The guy looked tired and a bit strung out on caffeine; light brown hair with a reddish hue sticking up at an odd angle, thick glasses—eye sight was probably terrible, dressed kind of like an old man in khaki’s and a button up shirt under a sweater vest. The guy probably couldn’t out bench Desmond but he looked like he could hold his own. No frown lines but Desmond got the impression he wasn’t much of a smiles and giggles person either. Somehow he was still attractive. By all accounts it shouldn’t have been possible. Desmond leaned a little closer, wanting to see the guy’s reaction. “I’m Desmond.”

The guy only glanced up then leaned back slightly. Not really nervous or put off, just letting Desmond have the space. “Shaun.” There wasn’t the hesitation of a lie in his voice. He looked up again and stopped, giving Desmond’s face an actually look over. “Do you go to Columbia? I could swear I’ve seen you before.”

“Nope, I was accepted. Didn’t end up going.” Shaun looked torn between asking and remaining aloof. Aloof seemed to win out because he continued typing. It was a pity because he could have bragged about going to Princeton, even if it was because of who he was and not his academic ability. “What’re you working on, _Shaun_?”

His table companion shrugged, eyes looking back down at his work. Desmond didn’t give up the space he had leaned into. “Thesis on the Borgia as the first crime family, their alleged connection to the family that would eventually rule Italy, the Auditore, and how that impacted the country’s cultural and political climate for the next few centuries.” Before Desmond could rein it in, he felt himself physically flinch. “Not that you would know anything about that.”

Leaning back, he lightly rolled his coffee in his hands with a smirk. If that was the subject then it was likely that Shaun had seen him before. “Cesare Borgia launched an attack on Monteriggioni, starting the blood feud that lasted well into the life of Ezio Auditore. The family had just pulled themselves out of disgrace over his father’s execution for treason—that he was framed for, and were becoming a major power again. Eventually Ezio united the families against the Borgia, married a girl from the House of Savoy, and was crowned king, later to be known as King Ezio I. Oh and then the hastily covered scandal with da Vinci. That part is my favorite.”

Slowly, Shaun looked up and reassessed Desmond. “Alright, so you know a bit about history.”

Desmond shrugged. “My, uh… family is Italian. They’re all very proud.”

_Understatement of the year._

Shaun glared over his laptop at him. “Then you’d know that there is no solid evidence that Ezio was ever… involved with the inventor.”

That had Desmond laughing. The Order had records that that was definitely the case. Encrypted love letters hidden in encrypted instructions for a hidden blade. It was all very sweet. “I like that you called him inventor and not painter. Too many people only know him for his paintings. It makes a compelling love story. It’s too bad they left it out of the movie version. Or that Ezio did a lot of under the radar killing to get to the top”

“You’re shitting me.” Shaun looked like his eyes were about to bug out. “You don’t believe that though. Right?”

Freaking Shaun out was getting more fun by the minute. Desmond took a sip of his coffee, now cool enough to drink, and let out a satisfied sigh. “I believe it. But that’s ancient stuff. No one really cares about it anymore.”

Shaun looked somewhere between shocked and awed. Clearly he cared. “All my colleagues think I’m mad for thinking that sort of thing.”

“So you believe it, too?”

The Brit rolled his eyes. “Obviously, but I don’t have any proof. I’ve got flimsy circumstantial evidence. That doesn’t hold up in academia.”

All Desmond could think of was the vault, filled with his family’s bloody, disreputable history, locked safely below the old villa. “Suppose no one likes to believe their great leaders aren’t saints. They wanted to make him a saint once. The idea kept cropping up every few decades. Can you imagine Ezio ‘can’t keep it in my pants’ Auditore da Firenze a saint?”

Shaun snorted—legitimately snorted, and Desmond felt victorious in a game he didn’t know he was playing. “He likely buggered one of the greatest minds of the renaissance and people just completely ignored it for years.”

“Right? If proof had gotten out the history of Italy would be radically different.”

“Yes! Imagine a divided Italy for two maybe three hundred more years!”

They talked back and forth for a while about how Ezio impacted history. How the monarchy lasted so long, only becoming constitutional in the last century.  It was one of the last monarchies to hold out, only righting itself after World War II nearly had the country fall to the Nazis.

Shaun spoke a great deal with his hands. It was distracting. Yes, Desmond’s whole family did that but they usually did grand gestures, sweeping and occupying the space around them. Shaun’s movements were so much more efficient, understated, and conscious of the space around him. Once Shaun got going about history it seemed like there was no stopping him. Desmond found he didn’t want to. Though he wasn’t sure how Shaun knew, he seemed to be skirting around the edges of the truth about the Assassin Order. It was, to say the least, breathtaking, watching Shaun try and connect the dots without the required information. Knowledge of the order would fill in so many gaps in Shaun’s theories.

Talking with Shaun had him seeing his history in a whole new light. Everyone back home hailed Ezio as the conquering hero, practically a messiah. Shaun was critical yet still had an obvious reverence for him. Reading between the lines, he saw Ezio’s humanity and still found him extraordinary, flaws and all.

“What I find most fascinating though is just how unlike the other constitutional monarchies it is; the King—or Queen in the current state— still has some true political sway and that’s so unheard of. The royal family is super diligent in their training. Some people say it’s just good genetics—which I personally think should be a load of bollocks, but the Queen is actually  _brilliant_ —“ Shaun continued to rant but Desmond missed whatever else he said. His guards had just come into the store looking defeated.

“Shit,” he hissed slumping forward and hoping he didn’t look conspicuous.

“What?” Shaun stopped mid rant to raise an eyebrow at him.

Desmond needed to get out of there, while they were still distracted by coffee. He needed a plan. He needed—

“You alright?”

He stared at Shaun, who may have actually been showing true concern, but Desmond’s mind was racing through a layout of the streets outside and figuring out the best escape. He needed to blend and he had an idea how.

Shaun wasn’t going to like it.

“Can I get one more favor?” Desmond asked, doing his best not to look at his guards and to keep his voice neutral.

“What?”

“Leave the store with me. Right now. I’ll explain outside but I really need to leave.”

Shaun looked at the guards then back at Desmond. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“I’m… kind of playing hookie—“

“You’re on the run from the government,” Shaun accused in a hushed whisper. “You lured me in with your conspiracies and historical knowledge to use me as your cover?”

Desmond shrugged. “I need a buffer. You in or not.”

Shaun scoffed, “Of course, I’m in. Lemme put my laptop away.” He stuffed it in his bag and leaned in. “Now what?”

“You get up first. I’ll be right behind you.” Shaun did, moving around the guys in suits and towards the door. Desmond followed, and on impulse rested a hand on the small of Shaun’s back. The leaner man jumped under his touch but didn’t say anything in protest. He leaned in so that only Shaun would hear him as they walked. “Public displays of affection generally make people uncomfortable. Makes them look away.”

“Learn that from a Marvel movie?” Shaun hissed through gritted teeth. Once outside, Desmond stepped away, giving Shaun his space again as they walked down the street at a pace Desmond tried to make appear casual while maintaining a steady speed. “Mind telling me what all that was about?”

“You’re probably not going to believe this—“

“Desmond!”

He turned to see his guards leaving the store. Desmond grabbed Shaun’s hand. “Run!” Shaun obeyed as they ran down the street and ducked in an alley.

“Oh my gosh, why are we running?”

“Because I’m being followed by two men in dark suits and I haven’t gotten your number?” Desmond yelled as he looked over his shoulder. His guards were gaining but Shaun had turned an adorable shade of pink. Panting loudly, he rounded a corner and made it to the next alley over before the guards saw them. A quick glance at the buildings had his answer—fire escape. “Over here. I’m gonna give you a boost.”

“Are you insane?”

“Only a little. There’s an open window. Come on. Live a little.” His companion sighed, obviously regretting agreeing to this already as Desmond gave him a foot up to grab the lowest rung of the ladder. It slid down with a slow screech of metal. Shaun dropped back to the ground gracefully. “Beautiful.” Okay, he hadn’t meant that to sound so honest. Shaun didn’t even bat an eye though.

Pity.

Desmond climbed up first to help Shaun onto the fire escape—also to prevent himself from being distracted by Shaun—then pulled the ladder back up as far as he could. The open window was on the fourth floor and they climbed.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is insane. I’m running from God knows who but I’m pretty sure I’m an accomplice now to whatever you’re getting up too.”

“I promise it’s nothing illegal… yet anyway.” Desmond grinned at him. Then, finally, Shaun properly blushed. They reached the floor with the open window and Desmond popped in the screen. “Okay now it’s only marginally illegal.”

Once inside Shaun saw what looked to be the door out of the small apartment. An older woman was asleep on the couch near the window, snoring in a long flowered nightgown. Desmond did his best to replace the screen but it wasn’t having it. Instead he just laid it to make it look like it fell out, before leaving with Shaun through the door and relocking it behind them.

“No harm done, I suppose.” Shaun panted as Desmond scanned for the door to the stairs. He opened it and went to head down when he heard voices carry up the stairwell.

“Stay here. He’s in the building. I’m gonna go up and search the floors. Back up in two.” Desmond heard the footsteps up the stairs and the slam of a door.

Desmond steered them towards the stairs leading up. “Change of plans. They’ll have the ground floor exits covered in two minutes, max. We need to go up.”

Shaun frowned as he hurried up the stairs. “I think I’m beginning to hate you.”

“Lies. You don’t even know me. Don’t even know why we’re running.”

They ran the rest of the way to the roof in silence. It was only six flights to the roof and the door was open. “Now what, genius?”

Desmond looked around in the blare of the sun, another building the same height as the one they were on was just across a small gap from them. “We jump.”

“What?!”

Desmond didn’t look back, running and jumping effortlessly to the next roof. “You coming?”

Shaun gapped at him from the other rooftop. “You’re mad! No, this is where I draw the line. This is where I put my foot down. No. No! Not doing it.”

He smiled across at the Brit. “Have a little faith.” At least this wasn’t jumping into hay bales from stupid like on the Farm.

“I shouldn’t trust you.”

That had something warm blossoming in Desmond’s chest, something akin to want. Desmond wanted Shaun to trust him, suddenly but indisputably. “I swear you will not be disappointed.”

Shaun looked at the door to the stairs, then back to Desmond. “If I fall—“

“I won’t let that happen.”

Somehow that was what did it. With one last look back, Shaun steeled himself and took a running leap. It was like it was happening in slow motion. Shaun was in the air then his foot was on the ledge. He stumbled—almost flat on his face, but Desmond caught him.

“See? Worked out. Now let’s get off this roof.”

“No, why are you—why are  _we_  running? Tell me that.” Shaun was shaking a little, clutching at Desmond’s arm with wide eyes, like he was waiting for Desmond to disappoint him.

Desmond panicked a little. “You won’t believe me.”

“I just jumped across an opening ten stories high. I am owed an answer.”

With a heavy sigh, Desmond leaned in, whispering low so only Shaun could hear—despite being alone on a roof.  “I’m a prince.”

Shaun’s face squinted then went slack. “That’s not funny—”

“My mother is Mariella Emanuele, Queen of Italy.”

That was a mistake because Shaun looked about to pass out. Desmond dragged him into the stairwell of the next building over and closed the door just in time to hear the door of the other building open. Safe. Inside the building the lone fluorescent light flickered. Shaun’s face was pale and he was looking—really looking—at Desmond. It made Desmond shift anxiously.

Shaun was breathing erratically as his brain finally put it all together. “Desmond Emanuele Miles, Prince of Naples, Duke of Savoy,  _heir to the throne of Italy.”_

Desmond smiled. “You missed a couple of titles but you get the gist of it.

“I knew I’d—I knew you were familiar. The last photo anyone has of you is from eight years ago. You’ve—bloody hell you’ve grown.” Shaun’s hand rose between them like he was going to touch Desmond’s face, but thought better of it and put it back at his side. Instead, he sat on the steps and stared at his hands.

For a few moments all that could be heard was the distant hum of an air conditioner.

“Please don’t freak out,” Desmond whispered.

Those brown eyes looked back up at him, filled with panic. “Don’t freak out? That’s all you have to say?”

Desmond shrugged, sitting beside him. “I mean you’ve got rights to freak out. I’m really just Desmond. I just want a few hours without a security team looming in the distance. That’s who we were running from.”

“And having me accompany you on your quest for alone time?”

 Desmond sighed. “I was hoping to spend it with you…”

What he said seemed to calm Shaun down a little. They sat there, on the steps leading to the roof in a companionable silence. It was nice. It should have been awkward because wow that was a lot to unload on someone you just met, but Desmond didn’t get a lot of quiet moments.

Before long, Shaun was the first to speak. “I’m hungry. Want to get a pizza?”

For a second Desmond thought he had heard wrong. Shaun’s voice had been a little shaky but it was otherwise conversational. If he was freaking out still, he was covering it well. “What?”

“Excuse me. Want to get a pizza,  _your Highness_?”

Desmond bumped his shoulder into Shaun’s. “Yeah. Pizza sounds good.” The smile he received in return was priceless.

They stood and began their descent through the building, taking their time. Around the fourth floor Shaun stopped. “Wait a minute. You said you believed those old rumors about the royal family. Were you fucking with me?”

Desmond grinned. “No. Why lie?”

For a long moment Shaun didn’t say anything. “Oh my God, you’ve seen proof… There is proof! How—? Where—? Tell me!”

He turned and continued down the stairs. “If I tell you, then I have to kill you. And I’m just starting to like you.” 


End file.
